Chapter 20
Susan
Friday
Greta and Leesa are already here when Jon arrives in from work this evening, which means I don’t have to face him on my own.
I honestly don’t know if I could have found a way to act normal.
But they’re here, they’re noisy and it’s easy to hide.
They greet Jon and I notice that he and Greta exchange a look.
The paranoid part of me wonders for a moment if she knows he’s seeing someone.
Surely she’d tell me, though? And it’s a leap to think a small, possibly imagined glance means something so huge.
Leesa makes room for Jon at the table, telling him about some restaurant he must try, and he hides his irritation.
I know he doesn’t love to find a houseful of people waiting for him when he gets in from work.
Well, tough, I think, with a visceral flash of anger, inching my chair a little away from him.
You absolute fucker. Just as quickly, the anger gives way to immense sadness and I have to fake a bathroom trip to hide my tears.
· · ·
Calm and dry-eyed again, I come downstairs and pop my head around the living-room door.
Leesa’s kids, Maeve and Aoife, are on the couch, ostensibly minding Bella but mostly looking at their phones and wondering, I imagine, how long until we order the takeaway.
In the kitchen, Greta asks me about my trip to the garda station.
I’d all but forgotten it over the last few hours, and telling them is a good, if small, distraction.
“It’s not that they think I had something to do with it, obviously,” I add, “but I’m connected to both cases so they needed DNA to exclude me. Which it will, because I wasn’t there.” I force a watery smile.
Jon gets up to put on the kettle. There are shadows under his eyes, but otherwise he looks pretty much the same as he has for the fifteen years I’ve known him.
And yet, he’s a completely different person, a stranger.
How could he do this? You know how, says a little voice in my head.
It’s not the first time. It’s not. But the last time we hadn’t been together very long.
This time we’re married. We have a baby, for god’s sake.
Leesa touches my hand. “Are you OK?”
“Yep. Just the DNA thing rattled me.” I rearrange my face and glance over at Jon again.
He’s staring at the boiling kettle, but now reaches for a bottle of Malbec and four glasses.
Something draws my attention to Greta, and I realize she’s watching Jon too.
Again I wonder, does she know something about his affair?
Of course not. I’ve only just found out myself. And she’s my sister; she’d tell me.
Jon places a wine glass in front of Greta and starts to pour but stops and points at a bottle of pills she’s left on the table. “Are they the ones you can’t drink on? I can make you a green tea?”
This breaks my heart. He is always kind to my sisters, even when I know he’d prefer a quiet house. But what does any of it matter when the manners and politeness are hiding lying and cheating?
“Nope.” Greta looks up at him. “These ones actually reduce the effect of alcohol, so make it an extra large.”
“Oh really?” He picks up the bottle to read the label. “Naltrexone. Are they prescription?”
She nods. He’s still scrutinizing the bottle.
“Wow, I didn’t know things like this existed. I wonder why they don’t make it available over the counter, let people go out for a few drinks but get less drunk? Fewer fights, less aggro?”
Greta shrugs. “I’m guessing lots of people who drink actually want to feel the effects…”
“But say in a work situation—drinks with clients. I’m always trying to pace myself, not make an eejit of myself.” A smile. God, that smile. I loved that smile. “Maybe I’ll take one of these the next time.”
“I mean, you could just not drink,” Greta says dryly. “That would have an even more sobering effect.”
Jon is still reading the naltrexone bottle. “I could even drive home after…”
I frown a warning. Greta’s lingering limp is the result of a car accident and, although nobody was drunk, joking about drunk driving is insensitive. Plus, Jon’s not without blame for what happened that night.
Leesa shakes her head in admonishment. “Jon.”
He grins. “I’m kidding.” He fills Greta’s glass. “Still, be handy, wouldn’t they, for client drinks.”
I stare down at the table. Client drinks. The charge from the Marker Hotel. My eyes bloom again and I blink back tears.
Oblivious, Jon pours a glass for me, and one for Leesa.
He still has Greta’s tablets in his hand. “Could I try just one?” He does a wide-eyed puppy look that pretty much everyone except Greta finds cute. I wonder if he’s like this with his…this person, this girlfriend, and the thought cuts like a knife.
Greta gives him a withering look. “Do you have Long Covid?”
“Nope.” Still grinning, he puts the naltrexone back on the table. His phone beeps. “Takeaway en route. Fifteen minutes.”
I push back my chair. “I’ll let the girls know.” I need a breather.
· · ·
In the living room, Aoife and Maeve are huddled over Maeve’s phone, and spring apart when I appear in the doorway. Aoife glances furtively at me then flicks her gaze away. Maeve avoids eye contact entirely.
“Everything OK, girls?”
Silence.
“OK, spill, what’s going on?” This comes out in my teacher voice, instead of my nice Aunt Susan voice.
Still nothing. Maeve starts to slide her phone under a cushion. I hold out my hand for it. Maeve’s eyes widen in horror. This is not the Susan she’s used to.
“Let me see.” Again in teacher mode.
With a small sigh Maeve hands it over, and I find myself looking at Snapchat, open in a group called “Did You Hear.” The screen is full of comments from different users. I scroll through, confused at first:
hahahahahha, like ariana is supposed to be her friend
I can’t wait to see what she says when Ariana says it to her
Is it definitely him? do we know its zach? omg shes such a bitch
Has anyone seen her? bet shes hiding. I would RUN
It hits me now. Nika.
Aoife looks at me. “It’s about the message.”
Maeve bites her lip.
“About Nika bunking off with her boyfriend?” I ask, though it’s hardly anything else.
Aoife nods. “Except he’s not her boyfriend.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s another girl’s boyfriend. Everyone’s going mad.” She nods toward her sister. “Maeve knows.”
I look at Maeve, waiting. Christ, what a mess. I have no love for Nika, but this is too much. And now I’ll have to text Celeste to alert her about the pile-on, to keep an eye on Nika…
Maeve sighs. “Yeah. Everyone in our year knows who’s going out with who, and Nika isn’t going out with anyone.
So when your message went around, people from school were wondering who the guy was.
And they did some digging and worked out it was Zach, Ariana’s boyfriend.
Ariana is this other girl in our year, who’s also Nika’s friend.
And that,” Maeve says, “did not go down well at all.”